The Convention at the End of the Universes
by EllieF
Summary: A scifi convention should be Matt's idea of heaven, but it feels more like limbo. This story is basically an excuse for Todd Wainio and Matt to hang out. :D


Written for dn_contest's "convention" prompt.

**The Convention at the End of the Universes**

"Hey, great costume!"

"What?" Matt blinked up at the strange girl in... was that a Sailor Moon outfit? He was sitting on the sidewalk, and his surroundings were still in the process of fading in around him. Hadn't he had a cigarette?

"How'd you get that bullet-hole effect on the vest?"

Matt stopped patting himself down for smokes. He could still hear the echoes of the shots. How the fuck was he sitting here—or anywhere? "With _bullets_," he said dryly.

"Ohmi_god_, you can take being in character too far, y'know." She huffed and walked away.

"What?" Matt said again.

Wherever he was, it seemed to have solidified around him. There were no sounds of traffic, but across the wide avenue, people walked back and forth in a crazy array of costumes. Matt saw a fully-armored Imperial stormtrooper, girls with wire-and-gauze wings, a woman who looked like she'd stepped out of a painting of Queen Elizabeth.

"What the _actual fuck_?" he said.

"Just got here, huh?" said an amused voice.

It was a man who looked to be about fifty, lighting a cigarette of his own. He had a beer belly and receding grayish hair, and Matt was about to write him off as someone's dad, or a perv here to ogle all the fake magical girls, when he shook his head, revealing wicked-looking scars striped down the right side of his face, and added, "It's a mindfuck for sure." He moved his cigarette to his left hand and held out his right. "Todd Wainio."

"Matt." He got to his feet and shook hands. He felt perfectly fine. Physically, anyway. "Where's here, exactly?"

"For some of us, it's _like_ an afterlife." He looked Matt up and down, obviously taking in the scorched vest. "Like for you, I'm guessing."

"Probably?" How could he _not_ be dead?

"Same here." Todd tossed his cigarette away. "Hey, the bar's about to open. I bet you could use a drink."

Matt followed Todd into the building whose sidewalk he'd—landed on? woken up on? who the hell knew? It was a hotel, pretty fancy, the lobby thronged with more costumed people. "The afterlife is a scifi con?" Matt said. "I mean, like, if it were for me, fair enough, but for _everyone_?"

Todd chuckled. "It's only sort of an afterlife. It's really closer to a stop on the way to the real one. This one block's all there is to it. If you try to walk farther, you end up back here."

"Are you shitting me?" Matt said, but was distracted by a girl walking past in a blonde pageboy wig and head-to-toe black leather. "Is _she_ shitting me?"

"Someone you know?" Todd said.

"Fuck, I hope not."

"You should've seen me the first time I ran into someone done up like a Zack."

"Zack?"

"Zombie. You didn't have 'em?"

"_No_." Matt took a longer look at Todd as they made their way through the crowd. He didn't _look_ crazy, and he didn't seem it, either. He looked like a fit man gone slightly to seed in middle age, and that, and something in his bearing, made Matt think he was ex-military. Not the type to make that kind of joke.

"We did. Anyway, it was damn lucky I didn't have any weapons on me. Some idiot kid in a rubber mask might've found himself missing a head."

"That's fucked-up, man," Matt said.

But it was only tied for the weirdest thing he'd heard today, and the more he looked around, the more he thought Todd was telling the truth about everything.

Most of the people milling around in the lobby had costumes that were obviously homemade. Foam armor, blue wigs, and that guy did _not_ have the build to pull off Axel. But Matt caught glimpses of people who looked... well, real. There was a blond kid about his age, with old-fashioned clothes, clutching a sheaf of papers and hurrying towards the elevators with his head down. A young woman with purple hair was talking animatedly to some girls in black robes, and as Matt and Todd passed, she blinked, and her hair turned pink, to admiring gasps from her audience.

"So... some people are..." He found he couldn't say _dead_. "Like us. But not all."

"Yeah. You're a smart one. It took me a lot longer to figure that out. 'scuse us," Todd said, politely, to a girl in a bikini with a duct-tape-wrapped weapon as tall as she was. He opened the door she had been blocking, and they entered the relative calm of a bar.

"Then what're these other people doing here?" Matt asked.

Todd took out his cigarettes again, a brand Matt had never seen before, with just a large "Q" on the pack. "My best guess is kinda crazy, but from the people I've talked to, it makes sense. They get dumped here from all kinds of worlds. I've met some who've never even heard of Earth. But some just wander into this... I dunno, nexus of realities, and they wander back out again without ever realizing what they stumbled into. They think they're at a regular convention."

They found open seats at the bar, and Todd, obviously a regular, caught the bartender's eye and held up two fingers.

"_Why_?" Matt said.

"Maybe it's the one setting where people hear your story and figure you're having a laugh instead of that you're batshit crazy. Or maybe god's got a sick sense of humor." Todd shrugged.

The bartender put two shots of scotch in front of them, without saying a word. He looked vaguely familiar too, insanely tall, pale, and dour. Matt shook his head and lit a fresh cigarette. "So, we're just, like, here forever?"

"Nah. People leave. I'm not gonna give you some bullshit about being ready to move on to the next plane or whatever." He wiggled his fingers in a mock-mystical gesture, and Matt laughed, for the first time since ending up here. "But if you're stuck here long enough, you kinda get a feel for who's going next."

Matt found himself hoping Mello wouldn't turn up for a long time, but a little voice he tried to ignore whispered he'd probably get here soon. He sighed and tossed back his drink.

"I know that look," Todd said. "Try not to worry about it."

"My best friend," Matt said.

Todd sipped his whiskey and gave him a look that wasn't _quite_ curious, as if to say, _Talk about it if you want._

"It's obvious how I... you know." Matt looked down at his clothes.

"Wasn't gonna ask."

"You didn't have Kira, did you?"

Todd shook his head.

"He's..." Matt hesitated. How could he begin to explain? "He has this notebook, and if he writes someone's name in it, they die. And he killed, shit, probably hundreds of thousands. Thing is, he mostly killed convicts, criminals. And people fucking loved it."

Todd looked horrified. "Perfectly healthy people," he said slowly. "Who could still work, and contribute. Who could've been rehabilitated."

"Yeah." He was starting to guess a little about what Todd's home must have been like. "And it's been going on for _years_, so it's gotten... People fucking talk about who should be _allowed_ to live."

"Jesus." Todd signaled to the bartender for refills.

"But Kira kills anyone who tries to stop him, too. He killed— someone important to me and Mello."

"Mello's your best friend?"

"Yeah. He's been tracking Kira for, fuck, five years now. And he had this plan... it's not important. I checked out in the middle of the end, is the point." It felt more than weird to say that. Matt had always figured that when you died, you were _dead_, game over.

"So you don't know what happened. That's rough, man." Todd shook another cigarette out of his pack, and made a face. "One thing I know: this sure as hell isn't heaven. In heaven, there'd be real smokes."

"Mine are real. Here." He passed over a Marlboro.

"Dude. Thanks." He fired it up, coughed hard, and grinned. "Been a while."

"Not everyone comes through here," Matt said. He'd been thinking it over, and there would be a _lot_ more normal-looking people if so.

"Right. It's, um. Don't be surprised if you get recognized."

Matt thought of the Sailor Moon girl, the girl in leather, and the young woman who, in retrospect, was clearly Tonks. "Are you trying to say that to some of these people, I'm some sort of... fictional character?"

"Seems that way."

"You too?"

"Yeah. But I've never seen anyone dressed like me." He laughed.

"It's funny," Matt said, though he wasn't sure it really was, "the thing I'm the most pissed about is that it was a bullshit way to go."

Todd took a thoughtful drag on his cigarette. "I'll tell you something, Matt. I'm not sure there's a way to go that _isn't_. I could've died at the battle of Yonkers, fighting the good fight, like it sounds like you went down doing. It still would've been bullshit. And even if you make it..." He paused, and there was a far-away look in his eyes. "You fight so long, and you know you might not even see the one that gets you. Takes you a while to get used to it, when it's over. To stop looking over your shoulder to _try_ to see the one that's gonna get you. I never really did, not even after six years of peace."

"How old are you, anyway?"

"Thirty-eight." When Matt's eyes widened, Todd grinned without rancor. "I know, I look about twice that. But it was a pretty good run, where I come from."

"I'll be twenty next week. I mean. Would've been."

"Dude, you can go crazy trying to keep track. Time doesn't work the same way here."

"That figures," Matt said.

"I know it's hard. Especially if you left someone behind."

Matt thought of Mello, and sighed.

***

It did get easier. Matt found a room, and met some of the other people who'd ended up in the hotel. Tonks and Remus seemed intent on adopting him, and often invited him to their room to play exploding snap. But Matt found himself spending the most time with Todd, trading stories about their worlds, or slipping into anime or movie screenings to get him caught up on pop culture. Only once did Todd say, "Not this one," and forcibly steer Matt away from a room before he could see what they were showing. Matt was pretty sure he got to return that favor when he found a paperback called _World War Z_, devoured it in one night, and never, ever, mentioned it to his friend.

He couldn't stop looking for Mello, couldn't keep his heart from leaping with foolish hope whenever he spotted blond and black across a room. He'd know before he could reach the person that their hair was a wig, or their walk was wrong, or any of a hundred other tiny cues that it was only someone playing at being Mello; and then Matt would wince with guilt, because wanting to see him was the same as wanting him to have died.

The first time he saw someone dressed like _himself_, he stared in dismay, but the girl grinned and flashed him a peace sign. He borrowed some more-nondescript clothes from Todd and Remus, which were all too big, but kept people from staring. Every once in a while, when he got bored, he'd wander around and critique people's cosplay. "Those goggles really ought to be orange," or, "A fake cigarette? Really?" But he was just killing time here, and he knew it.

Todd had been right about time too; it folded in on itself in strange ways, so that some days passed in a heartbeat, and others drew out forever. Matt lost track very quickly of how long he'd been here.

***

Matt was accustomed by now to looking more for an effect than a person, to watching for crowds parting as someone cut through them, slim and lethal as a katana blade. He wasn't looking for a huddle of black against a wall, or listening for ragged breath, but something in him became aware of Mello before he was conscious of seeing him.

Mello lifted his head. "Matt?"

Matt closed the distance and dropped to his knees, and there was so much he wanted to say that it got tangled up and bottlenecked, and all that came out was, "Hey."

"You're all right? But I saw... saw what they did to you." It was the first time Matt had ever seen Mello look uncertain.

"This is... It's where some people go when they die." He didn't say, _I've been waiting for you_, even though it was true.

"So I really am..." He dragged a hand through his hair. "And you... Matt, I'm sorry."

"I knew what I was getting into." It was true. He'd had plenty of time to think about it.

Mello shook his head. "I didn't mean for it to go that way."

"I know. I really do."

Mello stared at him. "And just like that, you're fine?"

"Not just like that. But yeah. We're fine."

Mello hugged him so hard and fast, all Matt really felt was that his ribs were suddenly sore. "Thanks. I've got to find out what happened back there."

"Yeah, about that. We can't."

"_What?_"

"We can't see it, we can't go back. Where we came from as good as doesn't exist anymore." He knew as soon as he said it that Mello would never be able to believe it, and sure enough, Mello went pale and very still.

"No. There's no fucking way we're stuck here."

"Come on. I'll show you what happens."

He pretended not to notice how slowly and unsteadily Mello got to his feet.

Matt had gotten used to people _not_ staring anymore, but as he and Mello made their way toward the front doors, they drew more than a few looks. Even disheveled and shaken up, Mello was obviously still intimidating enough to make people think twice about approaching them.

Matt had tried to walk out of here. He would've bet everyone had at least once. Mello stalked along the sidewalk beside him silently, glowering behind the sunglasses he'd fished out of a pocket.

Just like before, the building next to the hotel looked like some kind of department store, until they actually got there. It didn't shimmer or obviously change. Like a drawing of two profiles suddenly turning into a cup, it was one thing, and then it was the hotel again.

"Fuck," Mello muttered.

"It's gonna be okay," Matt said. "This is _extra_, the time here, and... And we get to be here together."

"We're going to get out of here together."

"Mello... we _can't_."

He didn't answer, but Matt knew what he was thinking: _"Can't" is for other people._

"Hey," Matt said. "Let me show you my room. We'll figure something out."

On the way, he gave Mello an abbreviated version of what Todd had first told him, which perked him up a little. "We have fangirls?" he said. "Heh, if anyone deserves them, it's us."

"You're not offended?" Matt had seen some pretty poor costumes.

"Please. I'm the original. _Everyone_ looks bad next to me."

Mello immediately pulled the curtains when they got to the room. "I need to sleep."

"Um... okay," Matt said, feeling awkward. "I'll just go out for a bit."

He ran into Todd coming out of the gaming room. "Still addicted to Gauntlet?"

"You know it," Todd said.

"Mello's here."

"Guess you'll be leaving soon, then," Todd said.

"I guess." Matt didn't know what he'd expected "ready" to feel like, but he didn't think this was it.

"Something wrong?"

"I don't know. He's pretty pissed. I probably shouldn't be surprised."

"It's not easy for anyone," Todd said, "but some people have a rougher time adjusting than others. Especially if they're, ah—"

"High-strung?" Matt supplied.

"Yeah, let's go with that. Don't worry. He's some kind of super-genius, right? He'll figure out a way to cope."

"I hope so, man. You've always seemed fine with being here."

Todd shrugged. "I'm more like you. Chill, you know? And I'm not gonna say there wasn't still shit I wanted to do, but... It's like I said when we met. I know I made it longer than most people."

"You don't really plan on leaving here, do you?"

"I wouldn't mind sticking around awhile. I kinda like helping out the newbies."

"You're good at it." Matt offered his hand, and clasped Todd's arm instead of shaking. "Thanks."

Mello was asleep, or pretending convincingly, when Matt got back to the room, so he curled up in his own bed, knowing already he wouldn't get any rest.

***

It was worse than LA or Japan. Mello had been bored then, and so had Matt, but that had been boredom in service to a goal, and this was just tedium. No plans to make, no suspects to watch. Mello was restless and peevish. After crashing for hours that first day, he hardly slept, and would go wander the halls at odd hours, coming back with bruised knuckles or dried blood on his lip.

"You _have_ to find a way to deal," Matt finally snapped, after a few days of this.

"What the fuck do you think I've been doing?"

"You can't keep picking fights, Mello. I don't know if we can die _again_, but I sure as hell don't want _you_ testing it!"

"I can take care of myself."

"I didn't say you couldn't."

"You implied the fuck out of it." He sprawled onto the couch in the small living area, and clunked his booted feet onto the coffee table. "It's not fucking fair. When you die, you're supposed to go someplace _better_. Not some bullshit fake version of where you just left, where you can't go anywhere or learn anything!"

"You weren't sticking around to see the end anyway! You meant to die. I know it. I knew it that morning." Matt heard the words as if someone else were using his mouth to say them. He hadn't known how _mad_ he was until now.

Mello didn't answer, which was as good as a yes, and they both knew it.

"What the hell was I supposed to do, after you were gone?" Matt said.

"You would've been all right."

"Fuck you, Mello, you don't get to decide that!" He'd waited god only knew how long for Mello to get here, and now that he had, it seemed like the only thing Matt knew how to do was push him away with both hands. He sighed, and headed for the door.

"Matt. Wait."

He stopped, but didn't look back.

"You were the only person left I gave a damn about," Mello said, quietly. "I wanted... shit, _one_ of us should've seen a world without Kira."

Matt went over to the couch. "It wouldn't have meant anything without you."

Mello looked up at him for a long moment, and then he smiled, a crooked, bittersweet smile. "You're hopeless."

And just like that, Matt wasn't angry anymore. "Makes two of us, Mel."

***

"Looks different out there," Matt says, looking out across the one street the next morning.

Mello takes a long look, shading his eyes, even though he's got his sunglasses on. "Let's go see."

It's so bright out here that everything looks bleached, even through the goggles. It's never looked like this before.

The car's the only thing that seems real, impossibly, perfectly whole, parked at the end of the block. The weird slant of the light turns it sunset-colored and paints the windshield gold.

"Oh, look at that," Mello breathes, and he seems young, wearing a delighted smile unlike anything Matt's seen in years.

"Not a scratch on her," Matt says, in a reverent whisper.

"I told you we'd get out of here together."

Matt grins. "I'm ready."


End file.
